Fractals in St. Augustine's Confessions

St. Augustine's Confessions is an autobiography by Augustine of Hippo, written ∼397, about the sins of his former life and ultimate conversion to Christianity. In Book VIII, Augustine references multiple other conversion stories before detailing his own: that of Ponticianus, who was inspired to convert reading about Antony's conversion, who was in turn inspired reading about (the Biblical) Paul's conversion, who was in turn inspired by "the Christ event" - in the other direction, Alypius is inspired by Augustine's conversion, and implicitly (we assume) the reader is meant to be inspired by that conversion. So we have:

"The Christ event" → Paul → Antony → Ponticianus → Augustine → Alypius → the reader.

This structure is like a fractal in that: the events are self-similar and repeating in one direction (keep zooming in); one can visualize the whole and also break the whole into similar parts; the events are chronological and self-contained (not layered unreadably on top of one another).

This structure is NOT like a fractal in that: the similarities are not infinite, only plentiful (you can only zoom in until you reach the Christ event); the self-similarity only applies on the broader level of "conversion to Christianity" and not on detailed levels of the individual's thoughts and circumstances (a fractal is identical on every level).

Some relevant thoughts/questions:

• With fractals one stops being able to see the pattern beyond a certain point (small enough pixels don't exist) - thus, we don't continue drawing the image, but merely understand that it continues. Could the same be said about metanarratives in literature having a first cause or an end? We call "the Christ event" the beginning in this particular example, but what inspired that event (and does it matter?)?

• How does imagining these layered stories as fractals affirm the end goal of the text (to convert the reader)? How can the reader place him/herself within this framework?

• Might statistical self-similarity be a more accurate description for how these stories are layered? This could account for the variation of individuals/circumstance without losing the overall flavor/purpose of the repeated events.

I wondered if this example was more like Russian nesting dolls than a true fractal. Here is the response.

I'm glad you mentioned the Russian dolls, as it led to a few more thoughts about my comparison. In the end, I think there are three key differences that favor the fractal analogy:

1) For fractals, the entire visual (including its interior parts) is available in a single picture to the reader, who must then dissect a single part of the text in order to see the smaller, repeating parts. I think this "hidden in plain sight" metaphor is more accurate than the "hidden within something else" metaphor, which might imply that the author were deliberately obscuring the other levels of meaning (which may be true for some texts, but decidedly not Confessions, which has the "conversion agenda" as discussed).

2) Similarly, you can only take the dolls in one direction - that is, if I open the biggest one, I'm left with just one choice: to open the next. I think this denies the versatility of literature, which can be taken in multiple directions and still get you to the same place (the same shape/figure despite being in a different quadrant).

3) The dolls, once unpacked, are independent of one another and don't maintain the same coherence and unity of form that a fractal does. I think Augustine argues, similarly, that these stories can't ever really be separated from one another because of their causality - the sort of "divine coherence" he implies by putting these events side by side is nicely captured by the inseparability and interconnectedness of the fractal.

It is true, however, that the Russian doll analogy lends itself better to the chronology/linearity of the stories in this particular case, as well as the "variety" issue I wrote about originally (how the stories maintain similar features and expressions while wearing differently colored clothes, so to speak).